Hansel

Quills, an ink bottle that immediately exploded on hitting the ground, papers, and other knickknacks fell in a rain of mess onto the floor. King Danik Marafi leaned on his desk, gritting his teeth while his people all watched him.

Hansel clenched his jaw to avoid saying something stupid.

That kind of temper could get you killed in a fight.

But the King doesn’t have to fight himself.

No.

Instead, he sends his guards, his spies, and even his brother to do it.

Not a bad thing for a leader to delegate. But when he makes the mess and then makes you clean it up… Hansel felt annoyed on behalf of the poor maid who stepped up to do it.

“Imbicles!”

Hansel and Farbrace didn’t flinch.

Abel, however, did.

Hold it together, thought Hansel at his partner. Glad the other man had opted to stand along the wall where he wasn’t immediately in front of the King.

“You’ve had two years. Two years to get any lead you can on the Grucian Coven. And you’re telling me you have nothing but taunts?”

Neither Hansel, Captain Farbrace, nor Prince Abel said anything. Just waited while the King fumed through his tantrum.

“What the hell am I paying you for?!”

For the trolls, manic pixies, demons, lesser witches, and many other cases we’ve handled over the years.

Hansel thought it, but wasn’t stupid enough to say it.

“What have you tried?”

“We-”

The King waved away Abel’s weak attempt to buffer his comrades.

“Not you.” He pointed to Captain Farbrace, the oldest of the three. “You.”

Farbrace calmly described their cases and attempts at tracking down the troublemakers.

Duke Wellington’s daughter under a sleeping curse behind a thorn wall, the deaths of the entire Appleton Village, the artifact smugglers at Cape Kuttle.

How they’d tracked down various individuals, such as the smugglers at Cape Kuttle and the maid who’d slipped the potion to the Duke’s daughter. And how each time, these individuals had died before questioning.

There was an entire storage house filled with artifacts they’d confiscated. A short list of nobles that had been stripped of titles. Many arrests, from those who hadn’t known who they were working for to those eye-ball deep in the conspiracy.

But still not a single Coven witch had been apprehended.

A handful of lesser witches but none with the power of the Grand Highs.

The King smacked his desk, now empty of every object.

“That’s it? All you’ve done are conventional investigations? Questioning and running to the scholars?”

What else are you expecting?, thought Hansel. Annoyed.

“We’ve had approval for using several artifacts as well. And our alchemists have made strides in creating useful technologies that have aided our investigations,” Captain Farbrace said calmly. “Since the Bullion Kingdom has also had trouble with this Coven, we’ve reached out to their wizards.”

“Have you consulted a fortune teller?”

The room immediately tensed.

Or, rather, Hansel tensed.

The King looked at all their faces.

“I have,” Captain Farbrace admitted finally. “But since it was with my own money, I wasn’t able to get a high class one.”

The King rolled his eyes and waved to the maid. “Bring me my writing things and seal.”

They silently watched as the man scribbled something and pressed his seal into wax next to his name.

“Engage the services of Madam Anabella. I don’t care how much it costs.”

Hansel gritted his teeth.

Fortune tellers were no better than witches. But they were better than wizards, since their skills were so narrow they were easier to predict.

While Captain Farbrace respectfully took the document offered to him, Hansel stepped forward and bowed.

“May we take the letter, too, your Majesty? As part of our investigations?”

The man grunted in a very non-royal way and slammed open a drawer on his desk. Then he carelessly tossed the offending object at Hansel. It didn’t fly far enough, so Hansel was forced to lean over to pick it up.

Dried brown blood splattered the page, which was scrawled in the old tongue. He’d have to get a translator as well.

“I want a lead this time.” King Danik leaned against his desk, glaring at each of them in turn. As though threatening them might get him results. “Now get out.”

Abel let out a long sigh as the door closed behind them.

“Just another day with my dear brother.” Abel ran a hand through his hair, ruining the impeccable image his valet had worked hard to create. “I’m ready for a drink.”

“Patience, Your Highness.” Captain Farbrace was reading the official order for Madam Anabella’s cooperation. “I’m sure your wife wouldn’t be happy if you came home drunk in the middle of the day.”

“My wife is busy gossipping with the other ladies and thinking she’s running the kingdom behind the scenes. She won’t notice I’m drunk until she gets home. And by then, I’ll be approaching sober and ready for another bottle.”

Captain Farbrace shook his head.

“Hansel, I want you to take this one.”

Hansel stiffened, looking between the missive and Captain Farbrace's face.

“No.”

“It’s not a request.”

“No.”

Captain Farbrace sighed.

“Agent Miller, you are hereby ordered to carry out his Majesty’s command. Or be stripped of your rank.”

Hansel snatched the paper.

“Damn it, Captain!”

His Captain ignored him and wiggled his fingers.

“I’ll take the letter, you and the buffoon get going. He’ll be your backup in case the big bad fortune teller attacks you.”

Abel made sounds of mock protests as Hansel grudgingly handed over the letter.

“Good day to both of you. And good luck.”

Hansel glared after Captain Farbrace, trying to bore holes into his back with his eyes. Of course, it didn’t work. Not without an artifact anyway. He was pretty sure he’d seen such an artifact among the collection.

He grunted in surprise as Abel threw an arm over his shoulders.

“Well, isn’t this lucky,” said Abel cheerfully. Practically dragging Hansel toward the front gate. “I’ll use this as an opportunity to smooth things over with Gretal. The Madam won’t refuse an appointment request if I make it personally.”

“You’re too optimistic.” Hansel pushed Abel’s arm away. “And what does Gretal need a fortune teller for?”

“Uh, well-”

Hansel looked sideways at Abel, who wouldn’t meet his eye.

“It’s… complicated…”

“Does it have to do with the rumors about you getting a second wife?”

Abel winced.

“Not my idea.”

“Gretal doesn’t see it that way.”

Abel set his jaw and repeated with emphasis.

“Not. My. Idea. If big brother Danik would just get married, I wouldn’t have to produce an heir. Anyway, if the Madam will help, I might be able to turn away the Counsel. If she doesn’t…”

The prince sighed and ran his hand through his hair again.

His valet would cry.

Hansel watched Abel’s locked jaw and decided not to pursue it any further.

The trip to the Madam’s house took about an hour. At this time of day, the streets were clogged with other coaches. So by the time they got there Hansel was desperately wishing he’d ridden a horse.

Or walked.

Being cramped in a small space with the large Abel was enough to make him feel suffocated. Especially when the man returned to high spirits and started talking about the latest pixie races and bouncing his foot too close to Hansel’s knee.

The Madam’s house wasn’t remarkable from the outside. It was the same cheap upscale look that minor nobles used to disguise their lack of rank and money. And it was also jammed onto one of the streets the minor nobles occupied.

So it didn’t stand out much.

But he felt a zing in his toes the moment they stepped through the front gate.

With a quick look around, he found the source in an alchemist box hiding behind a bush.

If the woman was wealthy enough for that kind of security, it was not a wonder she could live openly in the middle of the Capital. And say no to anyone she wants.

His mood soured even more when Abel rang the annoying, tinkling bell.

There must be some sort of law that butlers are old, dignified, and unflappable. Because nearly every wealthy or noble house he’d ever visited had one. And the ones who weren’t like that tended to be the person he arrested.

So when the door was opened by a woman with a smile as bright as moonshine, he stiffened and made a special note .

She bowed her head respectfully.

“How may I help the masters?”

Hansel handed her the missive. “Please give this to Madam Anabella, then return with her answer.”

The woman looked at the seal on the envelope, raised an eyebrow, and curtsied again.

“Would you like to wait in the parlor?”

“Please.”

According to court etiquette, Abel should’ve walked in front of Hansel. But with the disguise artifact ring on his finger, it would’ve looked strange for a lackey to take the lead. They’d done this so many times that sometimes they had to be reminded who was the higher rank when Abel wasn’t disguised.

And since Hansel could see through the disguise, he couldn’t just take the visual cue.

When they were left alone, Abel flopped onto the couch and folded both arms and legs.

“I can’t believe it. I’m finally in Madam Anabella’s house!”